Not Just Any Immigration CaseLeon Wildes represented John Lennon and Yoko Ono
from 1972 through 1976 and secured lawful permanent residence for them,
despite much contrary legal authority, Lennon v. United States 527 F. 2nd
187 (1975).

Each year, Professor Wildes has students in his
Immigration Law class study the case, and at the end of the semester, he
delivers a lecture that contains many personal anecdotes. The following
article comes from one of those lectures.

I received a call in mid-January 1972 from Alan Kahn, who had been a
classmate of mine at law school. He was house counsel to Apple Records--the
recording company used by the Beatles and John Lennon. Kahn said,
"Leon, I think that you'll have a very interesting day if you have
some time. We have real heavyweights here, John Lennon and his wife, Yoko
Ono, who have some immigration problems, and I thought of calling you."
What he didn't tell me was that he probably had called a number of other
immigration lawyers, because when I met John Lennon and Yoko Ono later
that day, their questions were so informed that it was quite clear that
I wasn't the first lawyer being consulted.

I'm embarrassed to say that I said, "Alan, tell me, who is John
Lennon?"

He said, "Leon, never admit that you asked me that question."

On the way down to the Lennons' Village apartment, he showed me a 1968
Certificate of Conviction issued by a British court, in which Lennon was
convicted of possession of cannabis resin. I had no idea what cannabis
resin was.

We arrived at a quaint apartment on Jane Street. In the back was a kitchenette,
beyond which was a door leading into a bedroom, which I later learned was
two stories high and was furnished with a huge TV set that was on all the
time, with the sound turned off. Most of the Lennons' business was done
in and around that great big bed. There I was to meet many of their newfound
American friends.

Yoko was the first to emerge--a diminutive woman, obviously very bright--and
she started telling me her situation. She explained that she had come to
the United States to find and get custody of her nine-year-old daughter,
Kyoko, from a previous marriage (to Tony Cox, an American citizen). She
had sought the girl for some time and had twice been on the verge of receiving
court orders awarding her custody, only to have Cox abscond with Kyoko
each time.

She also found time to tell me that she was a rather well known conceptual
artist--"con" art, it was called at the time. It seemed important
to her to get across to me that she was somebody. Maybe that was a result
of her living in the shadow of a very important person.

John emerged from the bedroom. He was fidgety and nervous, but warm
and nice at the same time. He brewed tea for us all and started telling
me his story.

The Case

He said that he had come to the United States on
a waiver of inadmissibility, which was available for temporary trips. He
cited the humanitarian reason of accompanying his wife to testify in the
custody proceedings for Kyoko. He also told me of his conviction for possessing
marijuana. He said, "The first thing I want you to know, Leon, is
that I didn't do anything wrong. I had no drugs in my possession. The police
planted them on me just as they planted them on Mick and George."
I was supposed to know who Mick and George were.

He also told me that he had been tipped off that
the police were going to raid the apartment where he was staying, although
he hadn't known exactly when. He had cleaned the apartment, which belonged
to some other musicians, and was no
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t on drugs at the time and did not have
any around, so he felt at ease.

When the police did come, they broke the door in
and charged John with possession of cannabis and obstructing justice. Obstructing
justice, he explained to me, was "trying to get your trousers on so
you can get to the door." He didn't get there fast enough, and they
believed that he was using the time to hide something. They came with the
dogs--and also with the drugs--conducted their search, and arrested everybody.

John was advised by his counsel to plead guilty to
possession of cannabis and pay the fine. I said, "Just a moment. You
were told to plead guilty?" He said, "That's what they told me,
and I had good counsel. Of course, Leon, lawyers always give you the right
advice, right?"

I registered that, although he obviously had told
the lawyer he wasn't guilty of anything, the lawyer had told him to plead
guilty. Perhaps there was something unusual about the British statute.

I asked, "What is cannabis?"

He replied, "Cannabis is a plant."

Then I asked, "What is cannabis resin?"

"Oh," he said, "that's hash."

"Is that marijuana?"

"Oh no," he said, "much better than
marijuana!"

I recalled some criminal cases in which people were
charged with possession of one drug and succeeded in getting the indictments
dismissed because they were actually in possession of another. There was,
to my mind, some distinction between the two, and I kept that fact in the
back of my mind.

Finally, he said, "You know, they're passing
a new law in England now, the Uniform Rehabilitation of Offenders Act,
which says that if five years go by without a reconviction for the same
type of offense, that's it! They erase the conviction for British purposes."
He was referring to a legislative removal of a conviction, but I realized
that such a removal does not generally have the same effect under US immigration
law. However, there was little law on the subject, and the issue could
be an interesting one.

After hearing John's and Yoko's stories, I knew that
they really weren't asking for too much. Yoko said that they were trying
to stay for just a couple of more months, but would require an extension
to do so. They had less than two weeks before they would have to leave
the country or face deportation.

I said, "If all you're looking for is more time
to stay and search for Kyoko--and I've never seen a more compelling reason
for an extension than having two child custody cases pending and trying
to locate your own child--I would be happy to look over the extension papers.
I'm quite certain we can get you a couple of months."

Then John said, "But Leon, that's all I can
hope for. I understand that I can never become a US resident, and if they
deport me, I can never come back. That's what happens when the charge is
being deportable for conviction of a drug offense." He seemed to be
repeating advice received from other lawyers.

I said, "John, I'm not absolutely sure that
you are unable to get residence. First of all, I see a question with respect
to the substance that you were convicted of possessing. It's possible that
you might not have even needed a waiver of inadmissibility to come in temporarily.
The statute says that 'narcotic drugs or marijuana' convictions cannot
be overcome. Your conviction was for hash, which is not marijuana or a
n
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arcotic. Second, there's something about this statute in England under
which you were convicted that rubs me the wrong way. I can't understand
why a top criminal attorney in England advised you to plead guilty."
I also saw the Uniform Rehabilitation Act as having potential for a new
determination because it was a new statute, and there would not yet have
been a determination under American law. Eventually, these were the points
that I cited in the Court of Appeals some five years later, when Chief
Judge Irving R. Kaufman ruled that the conviction need not be recognized
under US immigration law and ordered the Immigration and Naturalization
Service (INS) to adjudicate Lennon's residence case without considering
the conviction.

The Legal Strategy

Iexplained to the Lennons how I would handle their
case. "If you are as important as everybody says you are, I may be
able to put the government in a very embarrassing public posture. I could
file two petitions, one for each of you, as 'outstanding persons in the
arts or sciences whose presence in the United States is deemed by the Attorney
General to be in the national interest.' The government might have to approve
these petitions." Yoko smiled immediately.

I continued, "Then I would apply for residence
for both of you. Let the government deny John's case and grant Yoko's--since
there seems to be no reason to deny her application. This would place the
government in the uncomfortable position, perhaps, of forcing you, Yoko,
to choose to stay here with your child or go back to England with your
husband. They're not going to look good doing that. Now, if all you need
is a temporary extension, you don't need me. Mr. Kahn can have me review
any extension application he drafts."

All of a sudden, the atmosphere in the room changed.
And I will never forget that moment: they looked at each other and said
in unison, "We need you!" That's when I knew I was being retained.

From that point on, life was changed for me. I went
down to see the INS district director, Sol Marks, and asked him about an
extension application. I had known Sol for over 20 years. We commuted on
the train together in the summers and he would solve half my immigration
problems on the trip. He is a very knowledgeable, capable man who had been
with the Service for 38 years.

He called me the next day and said, "Leon, because
it's you, you can get a one-month extension. Don't ask me any questions.
These people will never get another extension" (in haec verba--that's
what he told me). "And Leon, tell them to get out."

I went back to Jane Street, where I soon would become
a frequent visitor. I practiced immigration law in my own office from 9
a.m. to 5 p.m. The Lennons would get up at 9 p.m. and stay up until dawn,
often at the recording studio. I would go to their apartment after dinner
to meet witnesses and go through papers, and, if I needed a secretary,
they would have somebody available.

We decided to file two outstanding-artist petitions.
We started contacting people for reference letters. By simply mentioning
my clients' names, I could get through to nearly everyone. Yoko said she
would be happy to get letters from Andy Warhol, Clive Barnes, Jasper Johns,
Stanley Kubrick, Elia Kazan, Claes Oldenburg, Leonard Bernstein, and Virgil
Thomson. If you're a collector of signatures, you would have valued my
files at a million dollars!

I completed two magnificent applications and told
Sol Marks that we were filing outstanding-artist petitions and that my
clients had no intention of leaving the country. His immediate response
was a letter enclosi
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ng Orders to Show Cause commencing deportation proceedings.

After filing the petitions, I received no adjudication.
Two months later, under the Freedom of Information Act, I asked for permission
to see all the government's files on Lennon. I appeared at INS one day,
and found a table full of files for my review, but my petitions were not
there. I smelled a rat and began to make a lot of noise for a very quiet
lawyer. The petitions finally showed up in a sealed manila envelope--totally
untouched.

I knew that if I didn't have an adjudication of those
two petitions, I would not be able to apply for residence for my clients
at the deportation hearing, which was coming up in a few days. So for the
first of four occasions in this one case, I filed suit in Federal District
Court for mandamus along with an application for an injunction against
the deportation proceedings, pending adjudication of the two filed petitions.
The preliminary injunction was granted and a court hearing scheduled.

Deportation as a Political Strategy

By the hearing date, I had still received no opposing
affidavits from the government. It was strange, because in my affidavit
requesting the injunction, I alleged that there was a government conspiracy
to remove Lennon for political reasons.

Later, I uncovered documents, under the Freedom of
Information Act, that showed that Lennon was being selectively prosecuted
for political purposes by the Nixon administration. A memo dated February
4, 1972, was forwarded to former Attorney General John Mitchell and Bill
Timmons of the White House by Sen. Strom Thurmond, describing Lennon as
a threat to the US government and the reelection campaign of Richard Nixon
because of Lennon's affiliations with members of the Radical Left, which
was then trying to stimulate voter registration of 18-year-olds. The presidential
election in 1972 was the first one in which 18-year-olds could vote, making
18- to 20-year-olds a very important constituency. I also uncovered a memo
in which Marks is advised by Washington to deny all applications, to revoke
the Lennons' voluntary departure privilege, and to schedule the deportation
hearing for March 16, 1972--strong evidence of prejudgment of the case
for political purposes.

At the hearing, Judge Whitman Knapp called both counsels
forward and said that the United States Attorney had received a call from
Sol Marks saying that he would adjudicate the papers that day. The judge
said, "You know I can't order him to either approve or deny. He still
has discretion to rule on these petitions." I was satisfied, and my
suspicions of a government conspiracy were confirmed by the fact that the
INS did not file affidavits in opposition to my claim of a government conspiracy
to remove Lennon.

However, I said that I was unwilling to release the
injunction against the deportation proceeding until "I see the decisions
and until you, Your Honor, and I have original approvals or denials. At
least with a denial, I know what my remedies are." The judge agreed,
and I got another adjournment of the deportation case. Later that day,
both petitions were finally approved. John and Yoko had been declared "outstanding
artists whose presence in the US was, in the opinion of the Attorney General,
prospectively beneficial to the national culture"! It was truly ironic,
because Attorney General Mitchell was one of the parties most active in
attempting to deport John Lennon.

They could now apply for permanent resident status
in their deportation proceeding. Even though the government thought that
it would look bad denying those petitions, it still believed that it could
proceed with deportation because in its estimation, no one with a drug
conviction could qualify for permanent residence. If I
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could prove otherwise,
I would be creating an unbelievable precedent.

The Hearings

My clients, like all clients, were very nervous about
hearings. They didn't know what to wear; they were afraid to testify; they
were afraid of all the tricks the INS was capable of pulling.

Preparing for our first hearing in the deportation
case, I called my opposing counsel, Vinnie Schiano at the Immigration Service,
and told him how nervous John and Yoko were. He said, "Bring them
up to my office, and we'll calm them down before we go into the hearing."
They were soon very much at ease in the prosecuting attorney's office,
for he was quite an expert on Beatles music. Soon Vinnie whispered to me,
"Leon, I don't think they realize that I'm the prosecuting lawyer."
I said, "John, Yoko, it's time to go into the hearing now, and you
can feel relaxed because Vinnie here, he's the prosecuting lawyer."
Lennon immediately grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, dropped down
on his knees, and started shining Schiano's shoes!

It became my practice to choose their clothing for
all court appearances. For one hearing, I got to their apartment at 6:30
a.m. and asked them: "What clothes do you have that look alike?"
It took us a little while, but they both had black suits, black ties, and
white shirts. I dressed them up like two matching dolls and I said, "I
want you to hold hands in the courtroom. I don't care who tells you not
to do so. Sit together on one side of the table and don't budge. I'll sit
on the other side of the table. If they say something about separating
you, I want to see the saddest faces you can make." We survived the
government's motion to sever the two deportation cases and try them seperately;
their cases were to be tried together.

At another hearing, I needed to prove that cannabis
resin was not marijuana. I was told by my friend Alan Dershowitz that Dr.
Lester Grinspoon of Harvard Medical School was one of the best doctors
in the country and an expert on marijuana. I called Dr. Grinspoon and asked,
"Is cannabis resin marijuana or what?"

"Oh," he said, "cannabis resin is
not marijuana. It's hashish!"

"Dr. Grinspoon, name your fee. I need your testimony."

He said, "I'm very sorry. You can cite my book,
but I don't testify any more."

I was very disappointed, and tried to reach some
other doctors. Then I got a call from Dr. Grinspoon. "Mr. Wildes,
I haven't testified in years, but I have a special personal situation.
I have a 12-year-old son who has terminal leukemia. Since we first spoke,
I found out that he idolizes John Lennon. If you can get me some things
autographed by John Lennon, I will be happy to testify at my usual rates."

I promptly left my office and bought lots of Lennon
paraphernalia and had John autograph it all. I met Dr. Grinspoon the next
evening at the Plaza Hotel with the whole pile of autographed stuff in
anticipation of his testimony.

The immigration judge allowed the testimony even
though it was not customary in deportation proceedings, because Grinspoon
was obviously such an important physician.

Working the Press

The case continued, hearing after hearing after hearing.
Nearly every night, I'd meet with the Lennons at their apartment or recording
studio, the Record Plant, to work on the case. I was about Yoko's age,
42, and I bought my first pair of jeans and let my hair grow. John Lennon
bought an "imm
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igration suit"--it looked something like what I'm
wearing now--and got a shorter haircut.

In March 1973, Immigration Judge Ira Fieldsteel finally
reached a decision in the case. I got a call from my old friend Sol Marks,
who said, "Leon, I'm having a press conference at which the decision
will be read. We're inviting you and Mr. Schiano, the prosecuting attorney,
to be there and comment on the decision." In his 38 years with INS,
Sol Marks had never held a press conference. Did he know something that
I didn't?

Needless to say, I didn't trust the district director
as much as I once had. I called my clients and asked them to round up journalists
from the music and underground press. I wanted to feed each friendly reporter
a question to be asked of Sol Marks at his press conference.

For the press conference, John and Yoko sent Sol
a big bouquet of yellow roses. He was never so flustered. Nobody had ever
sent this guy roses! All my new friends from Rolling Stone and the other
journalists started asking their questions.

The decision of the immigration judge was announced.
Yoko was granted permanent-resident status, and John's application was
denied because of his conviction.

"Mr. Marks, did you have to bring this deportation
proceeding?" "Oh yes. I'm required by law to do it." "Is
there a procedure by which you might have avoided doing so, called the
'non-priority' program?" "No, there's no such procedure."
"Were you told or encouraged by Washington to do this for any political
reason?" "Oh no, it was my own idea." He lied through his
teeth! When I examined him in a federal court deposition, he admitted that
his answers to those questions were untruthful.

Later that week, we held our own press conference
because it was time to file our appeal to the Board of Immigration Appeals
(BIA). I arranged for it to be held at the Association of the Bar of the
City of New York. Many high-profile people from the arts spoke. I gave
a presentation on the law, what had been going on, and what we knew.

John and Yoko, full of surprises, as ever, asked
me to stop the proceedings for just a moment. They took out tissues and
started waving them, and declared in unison that they were hereby declaring
the state of "Nutopia," a state with no borders, no laws, no
exclusionary proceedings, no deportation proceedings, and no immigration
lawyers! (I wasn't so sure that I was happy about the last part of the
declaration.)

Today, if you visit Yoko at the Dakota, you will
see a sign on the back entrance to her apartment that reads, "Embassy
of the State of 'Nutopia.' "

Federal Court Times Four

This case took me to federal court on four occasions,
during the five-year period of its litigation. The first lawsuit (Lennon
v. Marks, 1972) resulted in securing the approval of the Lennons as "outstanding
artists."

The second (Lennon v. Richardson, 73 Civ 4476, 1973)
was under the Freedom of Information Act, in which I had requested documentation
relating to the "non-priority program," a humanitarian program
that was not a part of the statute or regulations, and simply a matter
of secret law. In discovery proceedings, I was successful in learning about
the existence of the program, by which aliens who were fully deportable--including
those with multiple convictions for serious drug offenses, murder, and
rape--were nevertheless permitted to remain in this country because of
extreme hardship. As a result of the suit, I was successful in obtaining
such "non-priority" status for John Lennon, and the program was
made available to other aliens who
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might wish to apply.

The third Federal District Court action (Lennon v.
United States, 73 Civ 4543, 1973) was the one in which I sued Attorney
General Mitchell, Assistant Attorney General Kleindienst, Immigration Commissioner
Farrell, District Director Marks, and others, alleging selective prosecution.

Finally, I appealed the Deportation Order to the
Board of Immigration Appeals and argued Lennon's case in Washington. The
BIA affirmed the Deportation Order and I appealed their decision to the
US Court of Appeals (Lennon v. United States 527 F. 2nd 187,
1975).

About two weeks before the Court of Appeals entered
its decision, reversing the BIA decision to deport Lennon, we won our application
for "non-priority" classification, so that John would be permitted
to remain in the United States, even without obtaining permanent residence.
We went to federal court four times, winning each case on the basis of
a strategy conceived at my first meeting with John and Yoko more than five
years earlier.

Lennon Gets His Green Card

You can imagine my feeling after five years of almost
daily work on this case. I called John and said, "John, you remember
I told you we're probably not going to win this case, but that we might
survive long enough for the law to be changed? I'm now calling to tell
you that we actually won it!" Lennon was astonished: "Leon, what
do you mean, won? Yoko is in the hospital about to give birth, and tomorrow
is my birthday, and now you tell me we won?! Please stay at your desk,
and Yoko will call you when I get to New York Hospital and you can explain
it all to her."

I had been explaining things to Yoko all along. She
was my veritable co-counsel in the case. She understood every nuance of
every case I ever cited. John was brilliant; but when it came to these
technical things, he relied upon Yoko completely.

Yoko called and said, "Oh, that's wonderful,
Leon! Why don't you and your wife come over to the hospital as soon as
you get the actual decision, and we'll read it together." She was
interested in every word.

We went to the hospital and spent about two and a
half hours there. They were elated. After asking Yoko's permission, John
finally said, "Leon, did you know that all this time big lawyers like
Edward Bennett Williams have been trying to get this case? Do you know
why we stuck with you? You're the best immigration lawyer in the world.
You're the only lawyer I understand and the only lawyer my wife is crazy
about. You know, Yoko fires lawyers all the time. We also stayed with you
because her tarot-card reader said 'Stay with Leon. He's going to win the
case for you.' "

To which I replied, "Thank God for tarot-card
readers."

My wife and I didn't get home until about 2 a.m.,
and I was bleary. It was about 5:30 a.m. when the phone rang and the voice
on the other end said, "This is John."

I was half asleep and asked, "John who?"

"John Lennon, and I have a beautiful boy!"
He said it just the way he wrote it in his song, "Beautiful Boy,"
which is one of my favorite Lennon songs. We had become very close, and
although he wasn't my normal kind of friend, and I wasn't his normal kind
of friend, we had a very warm relationship.

The next day, I went to buy John a present. It was
his birthday. It was also his child's birthday. He had just become a father.
He had won his case. He would have his final hearing, get a green card,
and be able to travel an
5e1
d perform again! He would be free again.

I stopped at Mark Cross, not far from my office.
What do you get for John Lennon? As I walked into the store, I saw in the
showcase a passport cover emblazoned with the great seal of the United
States. "I'll have that passport case," I said.

Some time later, I visited John and Yoko--they had
moved from Jane Street to the fancier Dakota. I was waiting for them in
their magnificent living room, where the furniture and carpeting are all
white, as is the grand piano. When John and Yoko came in, I was at the
piano playing a "beginner" piano song that I had recently learned
from my kids' piano teacher.

John said, "Leon, I didn't think you knew how
to play the piano. You know, I don't know how to play. All I can do is
pick out chords."

I answered, "I wouldn't feel too badly about
it--you're doing fine."

When Yoko walked in, John turned to her and said,
"When Sean gets old enough to learn how to play the piano, I'm going
to take lessons, too, just like Leon."

Can you imagine, if that beautiful man had lived
more than five years after he had gotten his green card, what magnificent
music he would have continued to bless us with?